


The Heat Retreat

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha Jughead Jones, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Chemistry, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Heat hotel, Jughead is tied up and muzzled for a minute, Lust at First Sight, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Neck Kissing, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Omega Betty Cooper, POV Alternating, POV Betty Cooper, POV Jughead Jones, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Vibrators, heat retreat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Jughead is hungry and nothing else will satisfy him once he gets a whiff of the blonde Omega pressing a milkshake against her neck gland in Pop's. When he hears she's headed to The Blossom's heat retreat - renowned for having everything an Omega in heat would need - Jughead knows hehasto be there. Sheneedshim - she needs his knot. In moments of lucidity, their connection seems to transcend their biological imperative and turn into somethingreal.





	1. Her milkshake brings Alpha!Jug to the yaaaaard

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: This is not in the same universe as the ABO Mine series, but it is Alpha!Jug and Omega!Betty - strangers to lovers instead of besties to lovers. Lust at first sight. Cute by the end. There will be toys, too! Happy kink week, my friends! Celebrate however you desire! This fic is completely written but I'll release the chapters over the week just so you're not bombarded with smut. What a way to go, though, right?

Objectively, Jughead knows the pile of greasy fries should taste better than cardboard with mushy stuff in between, but something seems _off _today. He’s on edge. His knees are splayed out, cramming Toni into the corner, and leaving him halfway in the aisle. Being squeezed into a booth with his pack feels claustrophobic.

Their chatter irritates him, but he doesn’t want to be alone. He’s looking for something. He doesn’t know what, yet. It’s almost like a chemical craving - similar to the nights he hovers in front of the fridge at 2 am knowing that none of the contents will satisfy him unless he finds the right one. Fuel. Food. It’s not all the same. Neither are mates.

Sighing, he grinds his teeth and wishes for whatever compatible chemical makeup will ease his strain.

The bell rings. From the annoying click of high heels and the bright flash of red, he knows it’s Cheryl _fucking _Blossom out to sustain her diet of evil and turkey melts. He’s not even sure she really _drinks _the milkshakes she orders. She probably just sucks the life out of the cherries on top.

_Nightmare_.

At least it’s not double trouble hour, as Jason appears to be busy making a phone call in the car, never _too _far from his twin. He probably doesn’t want to part from his precious convertible with its white leather lining, either.

Cheryl taps her credit card on the counter. “Strawberry milkshake in a glass. Two in to-go cups with extra cherries.”

_Weird_.

So fucking weird.

He rubs his temples, trying to fight the impulse to take off his beanie and card his fingers through his hair.

“Thank you.”

The voice is unfamiliar and sweet, one of the few that doesn’t pound in his head. He glances over to the counter where a blonde girl in a ponytail and knotted black skirt rubs her thighs together, anxiously tapping short, french-tipped nails on the counter.

“Don’t clench,” Cheryl warns, flipping her long hair over one shoulder and turning the girl to look at her from behind. Every angle is perfect, from what he can see. He swallows, hyper-fixated on the stranger. Nice legs. Healthy coloring. Clearly this isn’t her usual outfit. She keeps tugging at the edge of her skirt; it sits a little loose like maybe she’s borrowed it. He balks at his own bizarre investigation, interrupted by Cheryl’s faux-blasé attitude. “Let’s clean you up. Pop, we’ll be back!”

Cheryl basically push-marches the girl into the bathroom.

“What was _that_?” Toni asks, munching on one of the table’s shared cheesy fries. “Cheryl get a new girlfriend?”

“_No_.” He doesn’t know where the reply came from or why he’s getting aggressive over it. Toni’s the one who’s been trying to play cat-and-mouse with the redhead. He wipes his face, pushing away the dry fries. “Got more of a big sister vibe. Maybe she’s one of her _projects_.”

Disgruntled, Toni sinks into the booth next to him.

“Could you straighten up?” he snaps, annoyed by the way her knee knocks into his thigh.

She eyes him, irritated. “What’s got you in a mood today?”

“Everything.”

Sweet Pea and Fangs exchange a look and a nervous laugh. He gets it. He’s _moody_. But this is what they signed up for when they joined his pack. He overthinks. He broods. He’s _smart_. A plotter. Most of the time he tries not to be a total dick, but _today_..._today_…

He presses a fist to his lips.

When the girls come out from the bathroom, the blonde looks incredibly self-conscious and flushed, tugging at her skirt again. Cheryl doesn’t have anything close to the self-satisfied look she gets when she’s ravaged someone. Her lipstick is perfectly in place. In fact, she seems oddly collected, like she’s trying to avoid drawing attention, which is _definitely _suspect.

The blonde’s fingers leave a streak on her misty milkshake glass. Instead of sucking on the straw to sate her pretty, parched lips, she presses the wet glass to her neck - her _gland_.

Plump beads of moisture gather, slipping along her sensitive skin, down to the swell of her beautiful breasts that strain and fill the fabric of her shirt with deep, measured breaths. She sinks into the sensation, unaware of his fascination and the faint nipple outline created by the patch of piercing cold.

Jughead readjusts his pants, willing them to conceal his literal rising interest.

The Hitchcock blonde closes her eyes, rolling the strawberry confection along her neck until she’s shiny and wet. He can almost hear the sigh of relief as she arches her back.

“_Betty_. Save that for the club.” Cheryl frowns, flashing a wad of green at Pop before dropping it on the counter. “We’ll bring the glass back on our next errand.”

“That’ll be fine, Miss Blossom.”

_Miss Blossom_. Like she’s some grown-up just because she has money. But Jughead’s too distracted to dwell on irritation for long.

He chews on his lip, trying not to draw blood as he savors the blonde’s name. _Betty_.

The girl in question turns her big doe-eyes on him, _considering_. Flexing seems ridiculous but not totally out of the question. The salt of his skin and swirl of saliva under his tongue makes him want to lick her and trace every last lingering drop from that milkshake glass.

_Hormones_, he tries to remind himself. That’s all it is.

Betty seems a little dazed, like she’s on the verge of a dream. “Alpha?”

His knees jerk under the table. He hasn’t had a stiffy pop up this wholly or publically since he fell asleep in class and woke up to some people panting around his desk. It’d been kind of terrifying. This is _intoxicating_. Like she’s calling for him - for her mate.

“Not _him_,” Cheryl snaps. “We’ll get you an Alpha at the club. Oh, god, you’re going to make a mess in the car. Let me grab some napkins. Or a _towel_.”

The moment Cheryl steps away, Jughead’s on his feet, barely aware of the blood pounding in his ears, of anyone or anything other than the Omega in front of him. She needs him. She’s probably in heat.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he announces, his gaze fixed on the gorgeous Omega.

She flashes him a demure smile. “When Harry Met Sally?”

“When Jughead met Betty.”

“Jughead?” she repeats a little breathily, as if he’s just said his name is _Dante _or something sexy. He feels almost boyish, leaning on one foot and grinning at her like she’s his favorite kind of chocolate cake.

“Back off, Hobo, she’s spoken for.” Red nails claw around Betty’s pretty pink skin. His fangs itch to pry them off one by one.

“I am _not_.” Betty looks mortified, milkshake nearly spilling out of her glass. Jughead fights the urge to punch Cheryl and haul Betty into his arms so they can both sate their hunger.

He doesn’t hit women. He tries not to hit anyone in general, despite his hormones flaring like crazy. _Is _Betty spoken for? Does she have a mate waiting for her? Someone worthy of her sweet smiles and scent?

“I told you, not _him_. Trust me, cousin, your judgment is clouded. Out of the way, Jones.”

Betty bites her perfect lips and Jughead struggles to move at all without lashing out, fists clenched at his sides. He’s _hungry _and he _knows _what he wants and it’s _Betty_.

As Cheryl shoves him out of the way, seeming to debate if it’s worth stabbing him with her heels through combat boots, Betty slides along Jughead’s shoulder, pushing his leather jacket to the side and managing to light his skin on fire everywhere she touches. She inhales, pupils dilating.

A growl works its way up his chest.

“Betty!” Cheryl jerks her arm again, not enough to hurt, but enough to draw her attention. “The car’s running.”

Betty stumbles after her cousin, clearly determined to be _good_ (_Good Omega_). He sees the drip of her slick sliding down her thigh and has to fight every urge to crawl after her on his knees and lick up to her center.

_Holy fuck_ he’s never wanted a mate before - but this, _this_ is something else. This is something that tempts him to actually interact with the Blossoms and start a fight over a girl he’s never even met before because...he _needs_ her. Even if she has an Alpha at some other club, she needs _him_, doesn’t she? No one just appraises someone like that across a restaurant without wanting _them _for at least a spell. They’re compatible. _Highly _compatible - the most compatible he’s ever experienced, certainly.

It’s not just that she’s in heat - he’s been around Omegas going into those before and managed to escape before they latched on. He’s been tempted to fuck a face or something in his own rare ruts, but he’s never actually given _in _to that need. No mate has seemed..._filling_. Sharing an urge like that means being vulnerable and that’s something he’s never wanted. Suppressants and masturbation were easier, somehow, than having to look someone in the face and admit that he needed them.

Pop sounds nervous. “You still want that shake, son?”

Fixated on the clap of the convertible door slamming shut, Jughead shakes his head and heads back to his table.

He should forget about her. He should go home and jerk off and take a suppressant or run the showers cold. The food in front of him looks disgusting. He needs _heat._

“You...okay?” Toni asks, eyeing him for not sitting down.

“He’s just upset Cheryl took away the hot out-of-towner.” As Sweet Pea retreats with a communal onion ring, Jughead smacks it out of his hand. Flinching, his friend’s mouth drops open. “What the hell?”

“What _club _are they going to?” he demands, his pack glancing at one another.

“Probably...the Maple Club?” Toni guesses. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but Cheryl’s family just opened a safe sex club.”

“You mean the heat retreat?” Sweet Pea snorts, picking at the onion ring again.

“The _what_?”

“You better take him now before he goes into a full-blown rut,” Fangs mutters.

They all scramble for loose bills, Toni asking, “You want this to go?”

“No.”

His pack looks even more worried about his appetite than the fact that if he did eat onion rings, he’d be unclean for the Omega. His tongue needs to be fresh and clear, just his scent - just for her - for _Betty._

Jughead wipes foaming spit from his lips. He’s fucking _salivating _over this girl - going rabid.

“We’ll pack up,” Fangs offers, gesturing to Sweet Pea. “Just get him there.”

His suspenders jangle like chains as they hurry to their motorcycles. The revving sound kicks his adrenaline into overdrive, reassuring him somehow. They’ll find her.

“It’s at the Pembrooke, but you need a reference to get in. I can try to convince Cheryl.” Toni knows better than to ask him to follow her, so they rush off into the wind. His brain burns with fantasies of Betty. On her knees. Over _his _knee. _Both _of them on their knees...

The doorman hesitates as he regards the leather and motorcycles.

“We’re here for something sweet,” Toni says, glancing nervously at the way Jughead keeps flicking his wrist.

He can’t help it. He wants to punch the door open and get to Omega. Thanks to being reared by negligent Alpha parents, he’s learned to control his needs enough to get by without landing in jail or doped up on suppressants, but sometimes it’s hard to contain the natural aggression.

Eventually, they manage to get to the elevators. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, bouncing on his knees with every passing second. Once the bell rings, he opens his eyes. Toni’s got her fist up to her nose.

“What?”

“You kind of...smell...like you need her.”

“She needs me,” he protests.

“I know, I know,” she placates, rolling her eyes. “I’d offer some advice, but I know how _weird _you are about–”

“_Toni!_”

She holds her breath and practically runs out of the elevator. They make their way to Room 69. Ironic, in his opinion, since that wouldn’t exactly be the position of choice for people in heat. A beta in a business suit with a lacy camisole underneath answers the door.

“May we help you?”

“Something sweet for my friend. He saw an Omega at Pop’s–”

“We don’t do mate requests,” she explains hurriedly, eyeing Jughead like he’s about to pounce. “Not for first-timers. You need to make an appointment.”

“I get it. Can we talk to Cher?”

The beta’s eyebrows furrow in surprise. “Miss Blossom? She’s...we can’t leave the rooms unattended, especially with an Alpha–”

“Put him in restraints, if you have to. That’ll make Cheryl almost as happy as what I have to say to her.”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to roll his eyes and bowl over this inept beta to search for the blonde himself.

Looking rather skeptical of the whole situation, the beta motions to Jughead. “I have an Alpha room set up in the back.”

As they pass some curtained areas, he catches salacious snippets like, “open up,” and wonders if the instructions are for someone’s legs or mouth.

It’s getting harder to breathe normally. He wants to run, to bound in and take care of his Omega – _the _Omega, he corrects mentally, to make her feel good. He wants to lap at her thighs, her cunt, push into her, and be whole and hot and _needed_.

The beta leads him to a room with wall restraints throughout.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Alphas can be pretty aggressive when they smell someone in heat. We want to protect the Omegas, don’t we?”

“Yes,” he says weakly, thinking of beautiful _Betty _walking into a room full of Alphas without restraints. They’d tear her apart. The tendons in his neck ache and throb just thinking about it.

Leather restraints don’t have the bite of metal handcuffs, at least. He sighs and shifts, glaring at Toni. “If you leave me here so you can get with Cheryl–”

“We won’t be long. Try not to chew your own arm off. Omegas come to their Alphas. Remember that.”

He scoffs, trying to get comfortable as the beta leads his friend away. There’s so much red and black in the room it reads like a gothic romance novel. Incense burns to neutralize some of the scents, calming him down.

Even if he can’t have Betty, he’ll be _fine_, he tries to rationalize.

Never mind that he’ll probably throw up and rip the carpet out with his teeth.

He wants Omega happy. As long as she’s happy, he’s fine - a fucking nut job Alpha, but fine. He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he nearly lashes out when the door reopens. It should be _her._

Instead, Cheryl eyes him, unimpressed. “Hobo.”

_Your Evilness_, he wants to snipe, but that won’t get him any closer to Betty, so he clenches his jaw in the hopes it’ll glue his antagonism down to a minimum.

“Toni tells me you’re all hot and bothered for my sweet cousin Betty.” He doesn’t rise to the bait, nostrils flaring in irritation as Cheryl walks into the room, arms folded over her white and cherry ensemble.

“I’d like to meet her. Properly.”

“You’d like to fuck her through her heat, you mean.”

He twists his own neck just for the satisfaction of the crack.

Cheryl glares at him, pupils black and flat. “We don’t endorse wild, unscreened Alphas hanging around our valued customers, especially when they’re family. The Maple Club has already provided her with all she needs.”

“You put her in with someone?” Rage flares in his veins, shame coursing through him when he’s held back by the restraints.

“You really have it bad, don’t you?” She grins, clearly enjoying his torture. “Betty’s been set up in a room with all different kinds of toys to use and play with as she chooses. We’re all about consent and vetting possible mates. Maybe she’ll ride someone. Maybe _not_.” The tongue-in-cheek reference to knotting, to someone _else_ knotting _his _Omega makes his blood boil.

“Put me in. She doesn’t have to use me. I can just...be there...in case–”

“In case _what_?”

_In case she wants me_.

He knows she wants him and needs him - he saw the way she looked at him, the way her slick spilled down her thighs after touching him as she passed by.

Cheryl paces around the room. “You’d be fine chained up naked to a floor restraint, never knowing if she’d use you?”

“_Yes_.” There might be a puddle on the floor of precum and his dignity, but he could do it.

“We need your bloodwork and then I’ll see about getting you set up in a harness.” It seems too easy, almost, and Jughead isn’t sure if he should thank her or nod before Cheryl radiates with her confident, evil beam. “I think you’ll look _great _in a muzzle.”

Nausea wipes through his need and he wonders what the hell he just got himself into.


	2. Channel: Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind on replies but I'm also behind on sleep so have the next chapter now and enjoy your evening, fellow abo kinksters. I look forward to flailing with you all soon. Have a great day and enjoy!

Betty wakes up sweating, cramping, and _craving_. Thankfully, Cheryl swore the Maple Club would have everything she’d need. She sits up, haphazardly reaching for the mini-fridge next to the nightstand for a long draught of her milkshake. The chill soothes at least _one _of her problems. With a big sigh, she takes in the rest of the room.

Soft sheets cushion her body from the plastic mattress pad underneath. Everything smells fresh and clean in a non-sterile kind of way and all the paintings in her room are of gardens and flowers with a sensual hint in their composition. According to Cheryl, the staff changes the decorations around depending on the tenant of each room; so she’s grateful that she has something pretty and calming to look at when her brain is functioning beyond her insatiable _need_.

Across the room is a tablet with menus for food, a _service _call button, and other various apps. There’s a section for toys - including diagrams and drawers to find them in, stars next to favorites, and small descriptions for each. Just as she’s getting ready to experiment with something called a _Rabbit _vibrator, another section catches her eye.

_Entertainment_? Most of the items in the category seem more voyeuristic than anything - the television mounted in the corner must have streaming to different porn videos. Although the internet is a vast resource for that kind of thing - including hot and heavy reading - Betty’s curious about the options _here_ at a luxury heat retreat. One channel just says _Alpha_.

She thinks of the beautiful boy in Pop’s with the deep curves under his eyes and rubs her thighs together.

If Cheryl had taken just ten seconds more, Betty probably would’ve been sucking on his neck and trying to hump him on a stool. The uncomfortable preamble of heat she’d felt in the car had switched to bubbling need when she entered that diner. The chilled glass felt so good on her neck, and then to be the object of desire from what appeared to be a very intelligent, very _tall _Alpha with a leather jacket? Of course, it was enough to kick her into a full heat.

She wishes Cheryl would’ve let her have him, but her cousin was right: she’s not in her right mind. Even if he seemed sweet and strong and kind and self-deprecating enough to be–

Not that it matters. She’s probably just filling in the blanks of her memory with what she wants and needs in a mate.

The Maple Club has everything she _actually _needs to get through this heat. Betty’s uncertain about the complexity of having a stranger help her through it. She doesn’t really _want _to engage an Alpha, even if Cheryl told her there was an option for _that _as well, should the vibrators and lube not be enough. Some strange, strong man fucking her into repeated orgasms might be a nice daydream, but it’s sort of a mortifying reality - begging someone to fuck her, to fill her.

One day she’ll have a mate - a dedicated person who _wants _to please her, whom she wants to please, and she won’t have to say anything. He’ll just know. He’ll take care of her and she’ll love him and...she’s definitely veering into hormonal sentimentality.

Betty clicks on the television for a distraction, maybe get some inspiration for taking care of _herself_. There are some vaguely interesting scenes that she scratches her neck over, but she wants to get a taste of everything before she commits to one thing to send her to bliss. The image on the _Alpha _channel nearly makes her drop the remote.

It’s _inside _the Maple Club. A live feed.

There are three men in separate rooms. Other squares on the screen are blocked off. It appears once there’s a guest, the camera is covered. The Alpha that draws her attention is nearly nude, in nothing but boxer shorts, down on his knees and tied to a harness. Across his mouth is a black breathing mask painted to look like a fangy smile. He’s _glowering_, inky black hair spilling over his face, wild and voluminous. _Beautiful_.

Growing dampness starts to make her uncomfortable, so she shifts to sitting cross-legged and watches more intensely. The lines of his muscles are wonderful. Some vaguely rational part of her overheated brain knows it’s creepy to jerk off to a guy in _real life_, one probably tied to something in the other room.

He looks uncomfortable. Alpha shouldn’t be punished - heats are already distressing enough.

Do they keep Alphas there the whole heat? Just in _case _Omegas wants them? Or is it only in shifts and then the cameras black out during transitions of people entering and leaving the room?

The throbbing between her legs overshadows her need to understand how things work.

Groaning, she slides her fingers along her slit and rubs. Of course, it’s not enough. She should get a toy - stop looking at pretty, perfect Alphas and wondering about their gorgeous, swollen cocks and how they’d feel _stuffed _inside of her.

Rolling onto her side, Betty rubs her slick. It itches. Sort of burns. She needs to be filled, to be free. There’s cooling lube in one of the side drawers, but her hands are sticky.

Standing up, Betty moves to the mirror. Her slightly sheer robe makes her look and feel sexy, especially now that her hair is wavy and loose next to her face. Normally, for events, she styles her hair or pushes it up into a sleek ponytail. Now, it’s soft and caresses her neck glands, makes her big eyes look less severe and more..._sweet_.

Sultry. She’s basically naked. She’s _sexy_. _Sexual_. Needy.

She touches her breasts, pinches her nipples, fucks herself on her hand, unable to focus on the whole of her reflection, staring at random things like her knuckles or the hem of her robe instead.

Coming feels like being shoved - a brief respite.

She needs more. She needs the vibrators. The lube. _Alpha_.

_No._

She does not _need _an Alpha. All she needs are toys and self-care and that will work just _fine._

A pink flush settles high on her cheeks and chest. She considers her options and scans the doors. Out there is the hall she walked through to get to her room. Maybe the Alphas are in the same hall. Or the sink.

She knows the bathroom is technically through the door to her right, but she tries to open the one to the left. It rattles with the deadbolt, the box-shaped sensor nearby lighting up.

Her tablet flashes. “What would you like?”

She scans the options, selecting: _Alpha_.

“Which number?”

She glances at the icons, ignoring the other two perfectly fine looking gentlemen and selecting the one with the fanged mask and sour look on his magnificent face. Maybe if she touches him, he’ll be pleased and get to go home.

A tiny part of her wants him to stay.

A not-so-tiny part of her wants to shove her breasts in his face and rub her sex all over his leg, but that part isn’t to be trusted today.

After reassuring the app that she wants to visit _him _as opposed to the other way around, the curtains shift outside and create an alley for her to find the glowing sensor for his door.

_Alpha_, she thinks, wrapping the thin robe tighter around herself and practically jogging to find him. It’s not having _sex_ if she just _smells _him, she thinks.

The door clicks open and she peers inside with all the excitement of the time she broke into the Records Office back home.

It’s like walking into a fever dream. Candles keep the room lit low, but she feels like every curve of his body is in high definition. The sharp lines of his brows and every single crescent eyelash stand out in stark contrast to his smooth skin.

Her breath catches in her chest as she steps the rest of the way into the room, pinned by the intensity of his gaze and the moment.

He’s on his _knees_.

The poor Alpha has his wrists tied together with leather restraints and chains, blocking his wrist glands.

“Let me help you,” she insists, hurriedly dropping to her knees before him. He leans in, sniffing her neck, the puff of air creating a breeze that moves her hair from the stickiness of her skin. Then, she remembers: he’s here because he _wants _to have sex.

Pausing, she sits back on her ankles, trying to ignore the spreading slick between her legs. “Do you _want_ to be chained?”

He groans into his breathing mask - which upon closer inspection, is actually a muzzle. It’s probably to prevent mating marks or an Alpha’s influence on an Omega. Cheryl kept warning her that the Maple Club does everything in its power to ensure consensual activity on both ends, but especially for the slightly more vulnerable Omegas. Still, the precaution makes kissing impossible. Licking, too. She’d _love _to be licked.

Fully aware of her own neediness, Betty tries to tear her gaze away from the muzzle and look into the _eyes _of this other _human being_. Dark blue, she thinks. Smart. Sharp. _Kind_ and _familiar _and...as she pushes a lock of hair from his face, she recognizes the boy from the diner.

“_Alpha_.” She feels as though she can barely breathe.

He shifts his hips out, towering over her, even on their knees. If she wasn’t melting, she would swear his eyes are almost _teary_.

She whimpers, grinding her teeth, soaking herself. She wants to help him, touch his neck glands, feel them warm and throb under her.

“You found me.”

He nods, jerking his nose ever-so-slightly against hers. She giggles breathily, stunned by the sweet surprise of the gesture. Most Alpha-Omega interactions are probably just sniffing each other’s glands and getting to it, much like dogs in heat. Compatibility is physical, something in pheromones and biology. Still, she thinks he’s sweet.

Struck with the urge to be flirty, to _entice_ him, she runs her hands along his body. “You’re beautiful, Alpha.” He exhales sharply through his nose, a stallion about to strut: healthy, strong, and brilliant. “Can I touch you?”

One distinct blink, a barely-perceptible nod.

She raises up on her knees, mapping his skin with her hands. The toned arms, still strained in their cuffs, ripple and twitch as she trails inward to the delicate patch of his wrist glands. “You’ve waited so long for me, haven’t you, Alpha?” She’s afraid to look at him as she goes on, pressing her chest flush against his. “You’ve wanted a sweet Omega to lick your neck.”

His tendons throb and she can feel how badly he wants her by the swell against her gut. She’s so slick for him. It would be so easy…

Shutting her eyes, Betty touches his wrists and licks her lips. “I could taste you, Alpha, for being so sweet.”

A moan, low and rumbling, is his reply. She wishes he could talk to her. More than that, she wishes she could suck on his tongue and ride him like those vibrators waiting back in her room.

“I could kiss you, even…” she begins shyly, not sure if she should unhook him, all rationale fading to the recesses of her mind as he presents his neck.

She leans in to press a reverent kiss to his gland. As soon as her lips connect, it’s electric, almost like a shock. He buzzes under her, jerking and shifting like he wants to hold her or fuck her. Licking him comes naturally. It’s soothing, sexual. _Tasty_. He groans and prods his erection deeper into the soft flesh of her belly. It must be so unnatural for an Alpha to be bound this way. She’ll take care of him.

“So good, Alpha. You taste good. You feel good, too.”

She massages his scalp as she grinds down onto his leg, wringing out the itchy, wet, burning along his skin. The puff of his exhale on her neck is driving her mad. Needy. A whole separate pulse exists between her legs. She mouths at his gland, kissing and sucking and licking, savoring the saltiness. She’d wanted to wrap her legs around him at Pop’s, maybe have him suck the milkshake off her naked body when he gave her that _smile_, but _this…_

Too turned on to process things, Betty starts rubbing his erection. Maybe his come will cool her. She can’t fuck him when he’s tied up and muzzled on the floor, but he does _like _this. He likes _her. _

Alpha loves little touches. He loves her kisses, her praise. Being fisted through his boxers is a good way to please him. There’s no humiliation of nakedness, no knotting in her core, or being stuck with her for who knows how long.

Desperate for his salt, she kisses down his body, backing up and getting on all fours to pull him from his boxers. _Humongous_. Obscene. It’ll never fit, even with her pussy coated in slick, and yet she’s salivating just thinking about it. She laps at his tip, sucking and bobbing as he throbs.

Alpha tastes so _good_.

He growls, vicious.

“Do you want Omega to stop?”

His eyes are _burning_ and the muzzle shifts like he wants to chomp right through his bit. The Alpha who introduced himself as _Jughead_ bobs his cock in demand.

_Thank God_, she thinks, shoving her fingers in her pussy and attempting to deep-throat this heaven. She coughs, gagging, fluids spilling from her cunt and mouth. Everything’s _wet_ and _sex_ and she _wants him_, _needs _him. Soon enough, she’s whimpering things and tugging him tenderly, then roughly, depending on how he moves, guiding her without words, without hands. As the room fills with pheromones, Betty registers nothing but how to rut and suck. Somehow, Jughead gets her onto his lap, grinding as she pumps him, swelling around the tip. The hard tension in his cock makes her want to keen.

“Help me, Alpha.”

He jerks upwards, the force of it taking her off-guard and knocking her back. Cursing herself, Betty scrambles to get close again, wishing she could’ve sheathed him like a good Omega. Before she can sink down, his knot swells and come spills out of him in creamy ropes, clinging to her skin and slit.

It feels so good on her skin, soothing, but it’s not _enough_. Desperate for relief, she starts scooping his seed inside of her, a commodity that she should keep. She should have his babies. Kiss him. Love him. She should fuck him until his knot is inside of her instead of exposed like this. She should be a _good _Omega.

Jughead growls, nudging her face, clearly wanting to comfort her like the good Alpha he must be. She plucks the muzzle strings undone from behind his ears with her clean hand and barely even touches his cuffs before he’s kissing and nuzzling her.

“_Omega. _Of course I came for you.”

The sentiment almost strikes her as funny. If she wasn’t feeling empty yet sated, she’d probably point out that he _did, _in fact, _come _for her.

They’re drenched in hormones, though, and she wouldn’t make fun of him even if he’d blurted out he loved her or something equally insane like _have my babies_, which is basically what _she’d _been thinking moments ago. She isn’t even sure _what _she was trying to say with his cock halfway down her throat, trying to please him and get herself off on it.

Heats can be surreal.

As soon as the cuffs go slack, Jughead shoves them aside and wraps his arms around her. He presses his lips to her neck and when she lifts her head, he sucks on her glands. The flash of pleasure that bursts in her veins blinds her to everything else.

“You need me. You need a bed.”

“_Yes_.” She’s panting, squeezing her thighs around him, all thoughts of the vibrator long-gone amidst the possibility of Alpha fucking her so nicely. “Please, Alpha.”

She’s never had _this _kind of experience. For some reason, this particular Alpha just makes her feel like she can be _herself_. Or maybe it’s this place?

The door doesn’t allow him to carry her out. One at a time, they have to get approval from their apps. It quizzes her to make sure she’s in her right mind before inviting him in, reminding her she can press a button to have him sedated and removed at any time but to play responsibly, as Alpha would want to please her.

_Of course_, she frowns at the screen. She’d never abuse someone so sweet. Maybe hormones make people crazy. Sometimes, it feels that way. Watching Jughead frown at his own tablet, stabbing and swiping to make things go away so they can be together, makes her feel _good_. Happy.

Once they get to her room, Jughead presses into her back. She can feel his heat, craves the bruising indents of his fingers at her hip. As soon as they’re all the way inside, he tosses the bundle of his clothes into the corner and turns her around, grabbing her by the jaw and capturing her in a bruising kiss.

The force of it takes her breath away. She’s never been kissed like this, _desired _like this, in or outside of a heat. She moans, smiling into it, indulging in tugging Jughead’s silky hair.

She opens her mouth, sucking his lips. Making love - or lust - with him is delightful. He lingers in the kiss, pulling back just a hair to ignite a chase only to shove back into the embrace with his tongue.

He’s so good that she almost thinks _kissing _could sate her heated need. If he kissed somewhere else, it just might.

Jughead plays with her, stroking her neck, sucking a mark sans teeth. She’s dazed, loving every second of the fawning when all of a sudden she feels the loss of his heat at her neck.

Confused, she steps back, following his eye line to the neatly packaged Rabbit vibrator sitting on the bed.

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?” The dubiousness in his tone sways into amusement.

“I was distracted,” she protests lightly, pushing his chest and turning off the _Alpha _channel. Like she’d predicted, the square where Jughead had been is black with _unavailable _now that he's left the room. The Blossoms really do have a finely-tuned system going on.

He frowns at the now-dark screen. “None of the other Alphas had gags like mine.”

“Maybe you have a reputation. You like to bite things?” She eyes his mouth, thinking of the fangy muzzle shoved in a pile with his things. His teeth are clean. Pearly. _Strong_. She wants them tugging on her nipples and skidding down her jaw.

Tilting his head in jest, Jughead smiles. “Maybe. I like to eat.”

“Oh really?”

“_Really_.”

The growl sends her stumbling back to the bed, peeling her flimsy excuse of a robe off and tossing it to the edge of the room. He crawls on top of her, everything about his frame urging her hips up towards the thing she needs.

_His knot_.

Embarrassingly enthusiastic cries work though her as he kisses her chest, biting her breasts, suckling and teething and making her a writhing mess.

Two fingers crooked, he looks up at her, waiting for her nervous nod before rubbing her slit and going in. “_Ah!_” The fullness helps her. Everything feels good. Alpha. _Alpha_.

Her brain goes wonky again, rippling like radio waves or maybe even those strange heart monitors when they’re on the fritz. As much as she loves Alpha, his hand isn’t enough. A low whine works up her throat for _more_.

His lips suction to her clit like he’s _shushing _her need. It’s better. Temporarily better. Rooting her hands in his hair, Betty rocks her hips against Alpha’s face. This won’t get her pregnant, but it does feel _amazing_. Noises she can’t process beyond _guttural lust_ vibrate through both of them, and it isn’t long before she’s coming all over Alpha with an urgent release. A sweet discharge fills the air.

“Yes,” she moans, tilting her head back, presenting her neck for Alpha.

But he’s not done. Alpha makes her come again, this time with his fingers _and _his tongue, the world sprinkling into tiny fragments behind her mind’s eye. She’s _gushing_. For one horrifying moment, she thinks she’s peed all over him, but he’s looking ravished and fantastic and sweaty and _fuck _if she doesn’t want to soak him in her sex again.

“Alpha.” Her throat feels dry as she reaches for him.

Wiping his cheek, Jughead crawls back up the bed and presses his erection against her sensitive slit. “You need me?”

“Yes.” Her voice waivers over the single syllable. She’s drowning in the adoration of his eyes, the way he pushes her hair back from her forehead and so carefully rests on his forearms so he doesn’t crush her beneath him. Heats aren’t usually so sweet, are they?

Is he just a thoughtful Alpha? A good boy? Does he really _see _beyond her need to something deep like she feels right now?

It’s too much for her to process amidst the urgency of her heat.

Maybe eye contact and heats just inspire affection. Still, she wants to relish it, savor and relive this in her diary for later.

She’s had crushes before, short-lived things that died out the minute she actually went on a date with them. So often, the conversation didn’t flow naturally, or the guy wouldn’t be listening to her, and even though they could be _sweet _or _smart _or _sexy_, there was just no..._connection_. They didn’t inhabit all three qualities and couldn’t live in her heart as a person she hoped to be with. Not like this. Not like fire and a million-thread-count sheets.

Sinking into heat, Betty trembles with need. She thinks he says her name and feels his tongue sealing her pheromones to mix with his.

Jughead eases his cock against her cunt and takes away any thought of anxiety.


	3. I love you, Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get toys and feelings. What more could one ask for?

Up close, he can see every shade of blonde in her hair. It’s probably creepy to watch an Omega when she’s resting, but he’s never cared much for what’s _normal_. She seems so _good_, an angel or a goddess in Omega form, one who immediately dropped to her knees and offered to free him before giving him what he needed.

_Needs_.

She shifts, rolling onto his chest and spiking his heart rate. _Love._

He knows it’s crazy, just hormones and everything else, but there’s this giant thread of tenderness wrapped around his chest and it’s not just because he’s knotted inside of her.

At least, he doesn’t think so.

Other Alphas have talked about knotting in doggy-style so they don’t have to look the Omega in the face after fucking them so hard that they say things don’t mean. Once the hormones die down, things can get awkward, but Jughead can’t seem to find it in him to look _away_.

A few minutes later, her lashes part, revealing a sleepy, sated green. “Jughead.”

He grins. “That’s me.”

“How did you _find_ me?”

“I have a friend that knows Cheryl and the club. I hope I wasn’t being presumptuous in offering myself, I just...thought...maybe we had a connection.”

She laughs, squeezing her leg around his hip where his now-softening knot slips a little from between her lips. “I think you were right. So, tell me about yourself.”

Self-preservation brews strange and unbidden in his gut. “There isn’t that much to know.”

Giggling, exhausted, she nuzzles into his chest. “What do you _like_?”

“You. Burgers. Orgasms.”

She rolls over, closing off, and he has to sit up in the spooning position to even be able to see and sniff her neck. She’s sweet. She needs _more _from him.

“I like writing...and riding. Words and motorcycles.”

She peers over at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Really.” He stamps a kiss on her lips. Maybe that’s enough.

“What kind of writing?”

_Oh boy_, he thinks, _here we go_. “Look, we don’t have to _talk_. You’re in heat. I can think of plenty of other things to do with our mouths–”

Her eyes widen, shining, lips parted like she’s afraid she’s done something wrong.

_Don’t hurt Omega. Not precious Omega._

“Not to mean that we _can’t _talk, it’s just not easy for me.”

“Why not? Because you’re rutting?” She touches his arm so delicately it makes his nerves ring.

“I’m...kind of _private_,” he admits, leaning down to kiss her neck and make her eyes close. Of course, he is _naked_ and followed her here after a five-second conversation only to be tied down to a floor by a nut job with a needle, so maybe he’s not as private as he was before this. Growling, he nibbles on Betty’s shoulder to ease the ache in his chest. “What do you like to read? That way I can write it for you. The ultimate Alpha,” he teases, kissing up to her ear, nuzzling into her neck.

“Mysteries. Memoirs. My favorite author is Toni–” She grits out a moan, curling her knees up and arching her neck against him as best she can.

“Come on, Betty, open up for me.” _Open everything_.

This time, he helps her roll on top of him, massaging her neck glands and breasts. The slick trail on his lower abdomen is nothing compared to the view above.

“You’re so beautiful,” he assures her, rocking her against his erection. “So wet and complete.” He’s not even sure he’s making _sense_. It doesn’t matter, though, because whatever he’s praising her about seems to do the trick, her muscles relaxing into awe and relief. “That’s right. I’ll fill you with everything you need. Take it, baby. Take me.”

She groans, her body stretching to accommodate him as she takes him in. The slick sounds of their flesh meeting keep a steady beat. Thrusting turns to rocking, which transitions into bouncing. Betty pulls him up to kiss her, drowning in her heat. She’s a wonderful kisser. Sensual and sweet, smiling whenever he nips her.

“You like my teeth, don’t you?” he teases, panting against her grin. Nodding, she kisses him again, trying to suck his lower lip between her own canines. “Oh, Omega,” he growls,his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. “I bet you’re thinking how you want me to penetrate that pretty skin, suck on you until you’re mine forever. Would you like that, smart Omega? Feel my teeth and cock sinking in where you can’t reach?”

Lips parted, Betty stares at him in awe, then shudders violently. The gushing fluids coating his cock and inner muscles clamping down around him answer for her.

He can’t mark her. He knows he can’t. It’s improper to claim her during a heat without real consent - especially considering they’re at a heat retreat. And yet…

Pride surges through his veins at making Omega come for him. He grins, tracing his teeth along her jaw, sucking and kissing and licking until she squeezes him with her cunt, shivering through a new, or maybe ongoing orgasm.

“That’s good, Omega. _Come_.”

She wants kisses, eternal kisses, to be held and knotted and loved. He could give it to her.

“Yes, baby, come all over me. I know what you need.”

“Ah! Yes!” She hugs him, screaming out, rotating his cock in such a way he feels the pressure intensify at his base. Her fucking beautiful rapture makes him knot, tension thick and building just for her. It needs to be released. She squeezes him with her tight, perfect heat, tongues his glands and makes him come in jerky, hot spurts inside of her. It’s like lightning in a bottle. Sparks. Ecstasy. Chaos and peace.

When she pulls back, her eyes are midnight, deep with shining stars. They’re glossy film reels flashing with pictures too sharp and fast to understand. Classic. A universe.

It feels so _good_ it’s almost _unreal_.

And then there’s the way she looks at him - adoring, enamored, sweet. No one’s ever looked at him that way his whole life, not even betas or Omegas who’ve begged for his bed or the rare offer of a date.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. Betty keeps staring at him, searching for something. A fuck-week fantasy. Wiping her dewy face, he moves in for a kiss - for two. Groaning, they shift so she’s laying on her back, hair splayed out like a veil.

What a pretty bride she’ll make.

He’s simultaneously disgusted by his brain and elated by it. Hoping to distract himself by measuring whatever it is she feels, Jughead glances down at her glands.

“How were you hoping this heat would pass?”

She arches her body, readjusting to the fullness of having him inside of her. “I don’t know. This is my first heat with an actual Alpha.”

He leans up, shocked. “What?”

_She’s yours_, the pheromones sing.

“Normally, I use herbal supplements to put off a heat as long as possible. I tried using toys and sedatives for my last one. Didn’t work so well. I was sobbing in my bathtub begging for relief. My sister suggested I come for a _heat retreat_ courtesy of our cousins.” Sated, swallowing, she gestures to the drawers and vibrators. “I thought maybe their lube and luxury would be a treat. I didn’t think...well, I’d reconsidered _going _when I met you at the diner. Maybe I wasn’t thinking–”

“I like what you were thinking,” he assures her, kissing the vulnerable dip of her collar bone. “I can’t imagine a heat without relief.” He presses his mouth against her harder, relishing the way she squeezes him close. An imprint, even without his teeth.

He needs a nonsexual distraction or he’s gonna start testing his jaws.

Closing his eyes, he rakes his brain for _anything _nonsexual they’d talked about. “You said something about Toni?”

“What?”

“Toni? Not my friend, an author?”

“Morrison.” She laughs, catching up and pulling him in for a kiss.

_Fuck_, she feels good, especially when he can sense her smile against his lips. This is impossible, not being able to mark her. Just _talking _to her makes his teeth ache.

“You have beautiful breasts,” he mumbles, ducking down, shivering as she scratches his scalp.

“Thank you. You have a beautiful smile.”

Shocked, he looks up. No one ever compliments his smile. People barely _see _it. Yet here she is, blinking softly at him like he’s a wonderful, happy Alpha. Maybe with her, he is. His heartbeat races as she delicately places a stray curl behind his ear.

“I love you, Alpha.”

He stares, stunned.

Betty shrugs and stretches like a starfish before wrapping herself around him, still joined by the knot between them. “You can say it’s hormones, that it’s dopamine and endorphins, but I love you.” She squeezes her pelvic muscles, manipulating his knot to drip more come inside of her. Fill her with love, with pups.

He doesn’t even know if she’s on birth control and he’s overwhelmed with the fantasy of Betty swollen with their children.

“Omega,” he cries, _actually cries_, as if somehow it isn’t the most un-Alpha-like thing to do, drip salty tears on his Omega’s neck and make her wince with the sting.

Ever-patient, his knot sealing her sanity, she wipes his cheeks. “I’m hormonal, too. I know we can’t talk about it _now_, but I want to see you.”

She’s probably only saying it because of the heat, his brain warns. His heart doesn’t care. “Okay,” he promises. Overwhelmed, needing control, he kisses her flushed chest and pulls back to wipe the snot from his nose. “Okay. I’ll take care of you.” She beams, lifting her arms up. “No, no, Omega. I’ll _take care of you_.”

Confused, Betty furrows her brow, glancing over her shoulder where he reaches for her abandoned vibrators.

“Can we? While we’re…?”

Using his thumb, Jughead pries apart her lips to show off her swollen, eager clit. “Looks like there’s still room to play…”

“_Yes_.” She trembles. He hasn’t even _touched _her yet.

The tool buzzes in his hand, a rumbling preamble to his jaw aching for control.

_Omega_.

He lowers the vibrator to her clit, watching the way her eyes roll back at the change in pressure.

“Mmmm...good girl.” Betty moans, groping her breasts and _squeezing _herself and _him _with her inner sheath at the praise. “You look so fucking sexy touching yourself like that, letting me know how much you adore me.” He draws the vibrator back and forth on her clit as Betty writhes underneath him. Her slick spills over the device, coating his fingers. “You love my knot filling you up, don’t you Betty? Look how pretty and wet you are, my sexy, sweet, Omega.”

Her nipples are so red they’re almost bruising. Neck glands flaming, he wonders how far away the nipple clamps in the drawer are - if he has time to grab them before she comes again - free up her hands to run through his hair and play with his neck.

But this is for her - for _Omega_.

He buckles down, laying the vibrator on her clit at an angle almost all the way down to where their bodies meet.

“Jughead!” she cries out, his name thick with spit and need.

“That’s it, baby, try and move against me.”

They rut as best as they can, one hand on her hip to steady her, the other migrating vibrations along her clit. Every time they jostle the vibrator harder against her clit, she winces with pleasure. He wants to paint that expression, videotape her and come to it. Even the thought of tangling Betty in the sheets and fucking her to a home movie makes him throb with need.

There _has_ to be more of this. More of _them_.

She needs him. She wants him. _Loves _him, he remembers, neck glands flaring. Although she can barely say a full sentence or keep her eyes open, Betty strokes his neck on one side while she fondles herself.

“That’s it, baby. So good, thinking of Alpha while he takes care of you.”

_Baby_. This term of endearment he’s rolled his eyes at all his life. But Betty’s his Omega. It’s different. _She’s _different.

Her body tightens inwardly when she comes, the pressure making him even harder for her again. “Jughead,” she says, clenching around him, and he makes a wild grab for the drawers, fumbling around complex contraptions involving chains and labia clips until he finally gets one that just has the two clamps attached at either end.

“Hands on the bed,” he barks, black swallowing the green in her eyes as she obeys, still shaking with the aftershock of her orgasm. Letting the vibrator lay on her stomach, Jughead sets about pinching and attaching the metal to her beautiful breasts, massaging them to make sure she doesn’t feel too much pain.

“I love you, Alpha. So good. I feel…” Her eyes are shiny, a black hole of desire. “Good.”

“I know,” he assures her, stroking her neck, her lips. “I’ll make it good for you. You’re being good for me, aren’t you?” She nods, sucking his fingers clean, making his dick twitch from the pressure. “You’re _so _good to me.” Eyes lighting up, Betty kisses his palm and preens, placing his hand against her cheek. Omega is going to milk him dry and he loves her for it.

Hand sliding down, Jughead squeezes her neck, relishing her sharp breath. Omega wants his touch, his come. She shivers, arching up into him as his fingers trail south, rimming the outside of her breast, plucking at her clamps. The chain...he thinks he’ll put it between his teeth so he doesn’t mark that perfect neck of hers.

“Can I?” He plucks carefully at the chain connecting her nipple clamps.

“Do it. Just come. Promise me you’ll come.”

“Of course I will.” He angles close against her, his stomach trapping the vibrator. Tenderness seeps through his pores and yet somehow it doesn’t conflict with the raw urge to fuck her senseless. “I’ll always come for you, Omega.”

With a little whimper of appreciation, Betty cups his face between her hands and kisses him so hard he swears he feels her soul pour into him.

Rocking his hips, Jughead tries to kiss her and set a rhythm. Fucking while already knotted is bizarre - like trying to lift a heavy bunker door one inch at a time. His lungs flutter with effort. He even hoists her legs up to give him more room to go deeper. Betty caresses his neck and rolls back, totally overstimulated. She needs his come to cool the burning fire inside of her - to feel _good _again - to be full of _him_ and _them_.

His jaws ache with the urge to bite her. Groaning, he looks down and away.

“Alpha!” She sounds urgent, nails clawing at his back and sending shivers up his spine, collecting in his gut. “Look at me.”

“I can’t. I’ll bite you,” he pants. “So close.”

“Nn...I want...you…” He can tell she’s straining to control her hormones just like he is, trying not to beg him to mark her. The chain slaps against his arm. Shocked, he looks down.

Eyes blazing, she picks up the chain again, holding it out to him with her thumb. “Muzzle,” she manages, although he can tell she’s grinding her own teeth at the thought of him sinking in.

Careful, aware of the way her lips are parted and the saliva dripping from his canines, Jughead clamps his teeth through the grooves of the chain. Coated iron. Smooth. Strong.

Omega relaxes in relief. Maybe it’s because he’s looking at her. Maybe because she’s hypnotized by his teeth.

Yanking back, Jughead watches the way Betty surges with arousal, her breasts stretched and pinched. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” he grits out, lisping, unable to look away from her flushed body.

“No, no it’s good, I think. Ah, _fuck_.” She readjusts, unfolding in elation. Even curse words sound heavenly on her tongue.

“You sound sexy.”

When she blinks up at him, confused, he realizes that the chain is hindering his dirty talk. What came out was more like _ew pow plecthy. _Annoyed, frothing, he almost drops the damn thing, but Betty giggles and the sound tightens every muscle in his body.

“Looks like I’ll have to be the one talking dirty.” The sensual drip in her tone has come leaking out his tip. This is good. This is _very _good. She strokes his curls, angling her hips until she can squeeze his knot and his balls with thrusts. “You like that, Alpha? Putting your Omega on a chain? You can pull whatever noise you want out of me when you fill me up with that–” A sharp tug cuts her off in a cry. He’s panting, dripping spit on her stomach and breasts. “Jughead!” Her eyes squeeze shut as she clenches hard, rutting. The vibrator kicks off again, sliding beneath them. Even though it’s on her stomach, occasionally knocked into his abs, Jughead feels the buzz migrate under his veins as she keeps urging him on, kissing his palm and pulling it to her face. Then, shockingly, she _bites _him, right on his wrist - a place almost as sensitive as his neck.

“_Fuck!_”

He comes so hard the impact is like punching drywall with his fists and his face, pleasure bulldozing through the pain. His teeth should shatter he’s biting the chain so hard, and eventually, once he’s milked out what feels like gallons of lifeblood, he slumps forward, dropping the metal and busying his mouth with Betty’s salty flesh.

“You liked that?” He can hear her smile, feel her flinch as the clamps are dislodged by his eager suckling.

“Break me open, Betty. I fucking loved it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warm up for that heathens dance at the end, although we do have some sweet things coming. Thank you again to my ever-patient betas and to all of you for your thoughtful comments which help shape this fandom experience into a wonderful one.

Scratching her scalp, sudsing and relaxing amidst peppermint shampoo, Betty turns and regards her mate. Naked. Pretty. Hers, at least for now. His lip quirks up as he keeps scrubbing his chest, eyes fixed on the fancy shower-head big enough for two.

“You’re staring.”

“Maybe you’re nice to look at,” she reasons coyly.

“Can’t argue with that.” The self-deprecating tone makes her think maybe he’d like to.

She wants to be closer. Not just physically - for now, her itch has been scratched. “Want me to get your back?”

He hesitates, slowing the rotation of his suds. “Yeah.”

This might be the first time someone’s washed his back, so she wants to do it well. Maybe he’s never trusted someone like he trusts her. Practically purring at the thought, Betty readies his loofa and turns him around.

“Why are you using that?”

“It’s exfoliating.”

“Pretty sure I don’t need to exfoliate.”

Disappointed, she rests the puffy mesh against his shoulder, water splattering down her forearm in messy patterns. “Do you not want me to use it?”

“It’s not that. I–I like it when you use your hands,” he says, looking over his shoulder at her. Even the way he wipes his long black hair back from his startling blue eyes makes her want to hold her breath in awe. “Or I’d like you to, I guess.”

A smile blooms along with a warm feeling in her chest. “Okay. How about I use both? That way you get the sudsy, scratchy feeling, but then you also get…” Touched, her brain supplies.

He likes her, she thinks. Actually likes her.

Jughead braces his palms on the opposite wall so she can knead into him, circle and spread comfort throughout her Alpha’s body. The grunts of relief make her feel...good.

She loves him.

It’s probably hormones, but there’s this stickiness to the feeling that doesn’t fade with the flush of an orgasm.

“Jughead?” Water shoots off his forehead in a cute little spurt as he turns to look at her. “If you were to go on a date, where would you want to go?”

“A date?” His chuckle sounds almost like a scoff. “I don’t know.” After a few seconds of her continuing to stare at him, swirling peppermint scented suds into his skin, he wiggles his shoulders and looks back at the tiles. “I guess Pop’s, since I like to eat. I’m comfortable there.” Part of her wants to extrapolate, but the way he’s looking ahead, water dripping down his back, makes her feel like maybe this is his thinking face, and she lets him forge ahead. “I really like old movies. There’s this drive-in...I don’t know if you’ve been…”

“I haven’t,” she fills in softly, thumb kneading the tense spots on the back of his neck.

“We could go. If you like movies.”

She scratches his head, loving the way he melts into the gesture. “I could get you extra-buttered popcorn.”

“Mmm.”

“You’d like that?” she teases, leaning in to kiss his shoulder.

“Yes. I’d like that.” As he stands tall, Betty’s impressed with how strong he seems, stepping into the stream and letting the suds skate down his back. He encircles her loosely in his arms. “Where would you like to go on a date?”

“Besides milkshakes and movies?” He nods, studying her with a carefully restrained, if hopeful, smile. “How do you feel about long walks on the beach?” Laughing, he tilts his head back, glands open and on display. She touches them, savoring the way he chases her palm to fit his cheek against it. Vibrations warm her chest, the ache between her legs secondary to the thrill of knowing he likes this. She licks her lips and dares to admire the beauty mark on his chest so she doesn’t melt into full-blown sunshine crush mode. “There’s this park…”

“You mean a makeout point?”

“No, an actual park with trees and flowers and things.” She gestures to the subtly placed blooms in vases and frames throughout the bathroom. “The snack stand changes its wares depending on the season. We could go, if you wanted to.” She looks up through dark lashes, the urge to bite and lick her lips growing more powerful with every millisecond she spends looking at his.

“I want to,” he says and tilts her chin up for a kiss. Although it may start small, the kiss deepens until even her sensitive nipples are pressed flush against him.

Flinching, she pulls back, trying to lighten the mood by flicking her hair. “And maybe, eventually, we could hang out at my house. Or yours, you know. Meet the...”

“Fam?” he mocks, eyebrows raised, clearly not enthused by the prospect.

Embarrassed, she looks away. “Or friends. Or...just you and me for a while. I know it’s fast.”

He gently guides her face until she’s forced to pout back up at him. “I’m in.” The sincerity is enough to earn him another kiss.

She’s hoisted up and out of the shower, her legs wrapped around his waist, a towel haphazardly thrown on the bed beneath them as their bodies go heavy with want.

~~~

He slides his jeans back up over his hips, buttoning, zipping, pondering if she’ll think it’s weird if he doesn’t properly utilize his ever-present suspenders. It’s been a whirlwind couple of days - a good, kind of spotty-in-a-good-way couple of days. He’s pretty sure he’s gotten more toned in their hours-long sex marathons and looks okay. Just to check, he glances in the mirror, tilting his neck up and noting a patch of red skin. It’s not a mate mark, but it is from Betty.

“Tried to sneak one in there, huh?” he teases, gesturing to the mark.

“Oh? I don’t remember that,” she lies, the too-loose black skirt askew as she tries to wiggle into her dry-cleaned clothes for the first time in days.

“Oh, you don’t?” He saunters forward, crowding her back until she’s seated on the bed, caged within his arms. “Why don’t you take a closer look?”

She places her hands on his biceps, pushing back even as her ankles hook around his calves. “Jughead, we’re supposed to be out of here by five.”

“What are you gonna do, mark me again?” She’d been sucking on his wrist fairly regularly instead of teething on his neck in positions where she couldn’t reach his lips.

“Jughead–” As his breath hits her skin, she chuckles and squirms. He mouth her glands, not quite sucking, playing more than anything. “Jug…” Then her breath hitches. He slides his hand up her skirt, into her underwear. They rut, slowly, together, before she jerks back, wincing. “I’m too sensitive. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He clears his throat, trying to rearrange his growing erection. His own dick would probably be coughing instead of coming with all the activity they’ve been at. “It’s been a crazy couple of days.”

“Mmhm.” She nuzzles her nose against his. “So the movies? Friday night?”

“Friday night,” he agrees, throat tight. She doesn’t live in Riverdale. She might not show up - not once the hormones wear off and she remembers he’s a trailer park kid that her cousin had to muzzle like a freak. Everyone tells them not to text or even exchange numbers until the week is up, let the hormones settle, then see what’s real. 

So he waits.

He spends the time working and dodging questions from his friends just in case she doesn’t show. He cleans the projection booth from top to bottom and steals a pot of flowers he doesn’t think will be missed with the knowledge that Betty likes those. 

Friday night, his hands are shaking. He tears tickets, counts change, not processing anything until a blonde in a restored Chevy pulls up to the gate. “Hey, stranger.”

Everything goes fizzy like soda in his brain. “Hi. Great.” It doesn’t make sense and he doesn’t need it to, just lets her in, flies through everyone else, and finds her as soon as he’s able.

“Popcorn. Extra butter,” she assures him, rattling the giant tub she picked up from concessions. “I hope you don’t mind that I snuck in some M&M’s.”

“Mix them together and you’ve got yourself a date.”

He clambers into her car, listening intently as she describes that it’s her dad’s, that they restore things when they’re not working on local news. She’s so fucking smart. He’d picked up on that during their brief conversations tangled together, but even now, he could listen to her talk all day. 

After starting the movie, he sneaks back into her car and gives her commentary throughout, savoring her wry smiles and banter and the way their hands link and linger in the popcorn tub. His feelings are cemented when she leans into his arm and whispers that she really likes his hat.

By the time the movie’s over and everything’s locked up, she’s situated in the projection booth, studying the film reels the careful way people regard art.

He wrings his hat in his hands, tossing it to the corner and messing with his hair before just saying what’s been sitting on his chest outright. “I may have done this during the heat, but I just wanted to say that I...really like you.”

She turns to him, delighted and surprised. “I like you, too!”

Relief and nerves tangle in an awkward chuckle that puffs through his chest. “Feels like taking a step back. The other day you were telling me you loved me.”

“I do.”

He blinks, stunned and confused. Radiant energy shoots up and butterflies from his chest to his neck glands, heat extending to his cheeks. “You don’t really know me,” he reasons, wanting to punch himself in the face for trying to talk her out of feeling something for him.

Even under the glow of the cheap halogen lights she’s luminous. “I love you, Jughead.” His eyes water, but adrenaline keeps the tears from falling. Instead, he stands tall. Her eyes carry their own smile as she holds her own hand and Jughead wastes no time in rectifying that by sliding his hands around hers, keeping her safe and his. “This whole week I’ve been thinking about you. About us. I don’t want to freak you out by saying it so soon, but I love you. I love that you broke the ice with When Harry Met Sally. I love how thoughtful you were when we made love. I love how you listen to me and always have something interesting to say. I love your passion for stories. I love everything about you - even the way you eat!”

They share a chuckle over that one, because he definitely was in full ravenous mode when they raided the Heat Retreat’s fridge. The Blossoms probably gave her a hard time about how many times they needed to restock it, but it was worth it. He kept up his energy. He helped his Omega - his Omega who loves him.

She chews on her lip, swaying closer and sucking him further in love with those gorgeous, intelligent green eyes of hers. She’s completely sane. So is he. “Everyone told us to wait, that our connection might’ve just been the heat, but…” He cradles her hands, bringing them to his lips. “I wanted to talk to you every day. I want to be with you every day, Juggie. When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Chuckling, he brings her hands to his chest. Endorphins flood his brain and he probably looks ridiculous smiling but he’s too far gone to care. “Did you just When Harry Met Sally me?”

“No,” she pretends, wrapping her arms around his neck. “When Betty Met Jughead.”

“I love you, Betty.” He cups her jaw, making sure to look her in the eye and caress her glands with his pinkies just to show how much he means it. Pleasure lights up her face, her brilliant smile widening as their noses touch. He’s close enough to see the water lining her eyes - the wonder he shares with her. “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to brilliant beta @jandjsalmon for her assistance with research and rationale on the heat hotel. Many thanks to beta @bugggghead who used her glorious gifts to fix up grammar and a graphic. I'm blessed to be friends with such wonderful people.
> 
> Celebrate as you wish, although I highly recommend leaving comments so we can do the HEATHENS UNITE dance and all be happy. Happy people have more fun writing and reading smut. Right? UNITE!


End file.
